His Great Game
by ASenseOfPoiseAndRationality
Summary: So often Sherlock is bored by life so when he is left alone after John goes out for the evening, what or who will he call upon to ease his incessant boredom? A short Sherlock/Moriarty split into a few chapters. Rated M for future chapters. Please R&R. Thanks!


Bored, bored, bored. Why is there never anything interesting to do in this God damn city? No exciting crimes to solve, no serial killers, not even an inkling of a riddle. Bored, bored, bored.

I can think of nothing to entertain me. Oh why oh why can life never be simple. A rotting corpse, that's all I ask; is that really too much? John seems to be ok, going out on…dates. Ugh, dates. With women no less. Sounds horrific if you ask me, spending time getting to know someone. Who needs time to do that? One glance tells you all you ever need to know. But then I suppose the simple- minded idiots of this world can't manage that; how they survive into adulthood, I shall never know.

What I don't understand is why they bother with dates in the first place. As far as I can tell, the only reason a man would willingly leave the comfort of his house to interact over a candlelit dinner with a woman would be in the hope of obtaining some form of sexual gratification at the end of the night, namely quick no-strings attached sex. And so if all you desire is sex in which there is no obligation to care for your partner in the moment or at any point in the future, why bother with the date that acts only as a façade of attached strings?

Ugh, the human race frustrates me, no end! Sometimes, just occasionally, I wish I could sink to their level, just for a day, only to see what it would be like to not care, to not think, to not _have _to think.

Don't get me wrong, I've indulged in the act of sexual intercourse with women in the past but never did I fool her into thinking it might lead to something. We were just… satisfying each other's needs, that was all. Isn't that the point of sex?

However, I find that pursuing sexual encounters with men is always far more…enjoyable. I realised this at the age of 23. I was in a club, observing the likes of night prowling Londoners when a man, only a few years senior to me judging by his youthful but sophisticated attire and shallow laughter lines, approached me and offered to buy me a drink.

I naturally recognised this as the kind of move a man might make towards an attractive woman in the same situation but as I was not an attractive woman and there was no way I could be mistaken for one, I could only assume that the man was gay. I was of course right.

I was intrigued as to why he thought me an appropriate conquest for the night and so I accepted his offer of a drink and I joined him. It became clear to me that the man, whose name I never did find out, wished to have sex with me and, because I was bored that week- much like I am this evening- I decided I may as well comply; after all, what harm could a little experimentation do?

I went back to his city apartment with him and we engaged in various sexual acts, all of which I found far more pleasurable than those I had encountered when with women. Not to say that I am gay, I just… have preferences.

Regardless, dwelling on the whims of a young man on a night out will not aid my current state of frustration. Think, Sherlock, think! Oh, what to do, what. to. do.

Hmmm, perhaps…no, a ludicrous idea! Or, maybe not…. John is out for the evening and I have the 221b Baker Street flat to myself…would it really be such an insane notion to think….

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, hastily composing a text, hesitating only momentarily before hitting send. It read:

_I was hoping you might be interested in engaging in another game, this time one of my choosing_

_SH_

The reply came quickly. Good, I don't wish to be taken for a fool.

_What sort of thing did you have in mind, my dear?_

_JM_

_Something of a sexual nature_

_SH_

Again, he got back to me quickly but I am yet to decide if that is because he is eager to accept my proposition or because he simply likes…messing me around, shall we say.

_Oh, please, do tell me more because honestly Sherlock, I did not have you pinned down as the type. If I had, I wouldn't try so hard to kill you_

_JM_

_Or hate me_

_SH_

_Oh darling, don't flatter yourself, I don't hate you, I pity you and your tragic life of _fighting _crime. Such a shame. You could do so much better_

_JM_

Such an irritant, why I am even bothering I shall never know. But still, I'm in it now, may as well continue I suppose.

_If that is the case then why don't you come over to mine and show me what you mean_

_SH_

_Sweetie, I thought you'd never ask._

_JM_

Shit. Is this really what I want? Jim Moriarty's cock. Do you know, sometimes, I even surprise myself. A smile crosses my lips as I think about the evening that now awaits me. Nothing helps to ease the mind quite like a casual fuck. And a casual fuck with consulting criminal, Moriarty. Now this will certainly be interesting. Goodbye, boredom! I have someone to do.


End file.
